THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
I will be your guarantor with M. Martelly that what you want to do is right and legitimate.”
He smiled, with his meek smile of an old man. Marius understood what supreme charity had dictated his words and warmly shook his hands. In the meantime the shipowner had signed the draft for fifteen thousand francs.
“There,” he said, handing Marius the paper. “I advise you to go to the counting-house at once.”
And as the young man, after thanking him again, was about to withdraw, he called him back:
“Look here,” he added, “you must still be a little out of sorts. Take a week’s holiday. You will work all the better afterwards.”
He wished to give him time to deliver Philippe. Marius understood it, and was again moved to tears. He hastened away so as not to cry like a child, and repaired at once to the counting-house. When he had the fifteen thousand francs in his pocket, he went downstairs in four jumps, then he ran along the street like a madman to find Fine.
The flower-girl was just then in her little room on the Place aux Œufs. Marius burst in on her laughing and dancing like a lunatic, took the young girl in his arms and gave her a spanking kiss on each check. Then he spread the fifteen banknotes out on the table. Fine, who was astonished and almost frightened at his sudden entrance, now began to laugh and clap her hands.
A charming scene full of mutual tenderness and effusive thanks followed. Marius vowed he was a simpleton and that she alone had saved the ship. He kissed her hands, fell on his knees before her and gazed up at her face with a troubled expression of ecstasy. She on her side blushed, protested warmly and sought to prove that she did not deserve the least acknowledgment.
For six months they had given themselves up entirely to a difficult task, and had knocked in vain at every door. And, now, all of a sudden, Philippe’s ransom was spread out before their eyes. Naturally they forgot all their anxiety and fear, all the shame and stupidity with which they had momentarily come in contact. There was nothing in their hearts, at present, but tranquillity and intense joy.
Before separating they arranged that they would leave for Aix the following morning.
CHAPTER XX
THE ESCAPE
THE next morning, at about seven o’clock, Marius hired a cabriolet. He did not wish to go by the diligence, and as he needed a vehicle for the flight he preferred to hire one at Marseille which would take him to Aix, and serve to bring back his brother. On the previous evening he had made an arrangement with a sea captain to convey Philippe to Genoa.
Marius and Fine set out at nine o’clock, the young man driving. It was quite a pleasure party for the two lovers. At the hill of La Viste, they got down and ran along the road like children, letting the horse come on at his own pace. They breakfasted in a small room at an auberge at Septèmes, and at dessert sketched out a multitude of plans for the future. Now that Philippe was about to be set at liberty they could think of their marriage, and were quite affected as they saw the time approaching when they would be able to love in peace.
The remainder of the journey was also very gay. Towards noon they passed beside the Albertas property, and stopped again, to give the horse breath and take rest themselves, beneath the trees on the right hand side of the road, reaching Aix at three o’clock. Notwithstanding all the delay, they still arrived too soon. So as not to arouse suspicion they had decided not to go to the prison until the evening. In the meantime the young man left the cabriolet in care of his companion in a deserted street, and proceeded to the house of his relative Isnard, who placed horse and trap in safety, promising to bring them at midnight precisely to the summit of the hill of Arc. When these precautions had been taken the two young people hid themselves until dark.
As Marius and Fine were returning to Isnard’s shop, the former, at the turn of a street, almost fell into the arms of M. de Cazalis, but he walked on rapidly with his head bent down, and the deputy did not notice him; nevertheless the young man was in despair at this meeting. He felt extremely anxious, fearing that some new misfortune might happen at the eleventh hour, to prevent him bringing his task to a happy issue. M. de Cazalis had no doubt come to Aix to hasten his vengeance, he thought, and had perhaps succeeded.
Marius was in a fever until the evening, and the most strange ideas passed through his mind. Now that he had the money, he dreaded meeting with other obstacles. At last, at nine o’clock, he went to the gaol accompanied by Fine. The two young people knocked at the massive door. A heavy step was heard and a harsh voice inquired what they wanted.
“It is us, uncle,” exclaimed Fine. “Open the door.” — “Open quick, Monsieur Revertégat,” added Marius in his turn.
The voice grumbled and answered in a surly tone: “M. Revertégat is no longer here, he is ill.” The wicket was shut, and Marius and Fine stood mute and bewildered at the closed door.
The flower-girl had not thought it necessary to write to her uncle for four months. She had his promise and that sufficed. So the news of his illness fell on her and her companion like a thunderbolt. It had never struck them that the old fellow might be ill. And now all their efforts were paralysed by an unforeseen impediment. They had Philippe’s ransom and were unable to deliver him. When they had in a measure recovered from their painful astonishment, Fine drew herself up.
“Let us go and see my uncle,” she exclaimed, “he must be with one of his cousins in the Rue de la Glacière.”
“What’s the use?” answered Marius, “all is lost.”
“No, no, come along.”
He followed her as if bowed down by despair, while she stepped out boldly, unable to believe that chance could possibly be so cruel.
Revertégat was, in fact, at his cousins’ in the Rue de la Glacière. He had been laid up there for a fortnight. When he saw the young people enter, he understood their errand. He raised himself up, kissed his niece on the forehead, and said to her with a smile:
“Well! the hour has come then?”
“We have been to the prison,” answered the young girl, “and they told us^ you were ill.”
“Good heavens! why did you not warn us?” exclaimed Marius sorrowfully, “we would have been more expeditious.”‘
“Yes,” continued the flower-girl, “now you are no longer gaoler, what are we going to do?”
Revertégat looked at them and seemed surprised at their despondency.
“Why are you in such despair?” he inquired at last. “I am rather unwell, it is true; I asked for a holiday, but I still hold my post; I shall be at your orders tomorrow evening, if you like.”
Marius and Fine uttered an exclamation of delight.
“The man who answered you,” continued Revertégat, “is taking my place for a few days. Tomorrow morning I shall go and resume my duties; I have now only a little fever, and can go out without danger. Besides, the matter is urgent.”
“I knew there was no occasion for despair!” exclaimed the flower-girl triumphantly.
Marius was trembling with emotion.
“You did quite right to come and see me today,” continued the gaoler after a short silence. “I heard this morning that M. de Cazalis was at Aix, and was doing all he could to hasten on the performance of the sentence. They tell me he has succeeded in having it fixed for three days hence. If M. Philippe should not get away tomorrow night, I shall no longer be able to be of use to you, for after tomorrow the prisoner will be transferred to the gaol at Marseille.”
Marius shuddered. He had come just in time. He arranged with the gaoler and made an appointment for the next evening. He then ran and told Isnard that the escape was delayed for twenty-four hours.
On the morrow, the two young people remained hidden all day, and having a certitude, they were more calm. The escape